The Magical Misadventures of Muse
by Lily's Muse
Summary: Muse as wizards. Nuff said.
1. Falling Away

The rules of Quidditch are very simple.

Seven players on a team. One Keeper, one Seeker, two Beaters, and three Chasers. One pitch. Six goal hoops. Four balls in the game. Two Bludgers, one Quaffle, and one Golden Snitch.

The Chasers try to get the Quaffle through one of the three opposing goal hoops. The Keeper guards the hoops. The two Bludgers are bewitched to try and knock the players off their brooms, and it's the Beaters' duty to protect their team from them and hit them back towards the opposing players.

It is the Seeker's job to catch the Golden Snitch. Which is easier said than done.

My position on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team may not be the most glamourous—I'm the first to admit it—but it is definitely vital. While the Keeper is keeping, the Seeker seeking, and the Chasers chasing, Brittany Kennicot and I are doing our level best to prevent the Bludgers from injuring our teammates. I am a Beater.

I make my way quickly towards the Hogwarts pitch, having decided just to carry my Quidditch robes in a huge bundle so as not to be late for practice. It's only early October, but we've already been meeting twice a week under our current captain, Ethan Chambers. I'm starting to regret that bundle decision now as the pouring rain continues to soak me and everything I'm carrying.

I hear myself drop something as I jog down the familiar beaten path. Coming to a halt and turning around, I see a shin guard in the mud, and groan. It's slowly being carried down the hill by tiny rivers of rain, but I know I can get to it before it's completely out of my grasp.

I trudge over to it, fighting uphill against the slick angle of grass and mud. I actually manage to pick it up without sending myself head-first into the sludge, but when I stand again, there's a bright flash as an unseen force rumbles and tears the air around me. I shriek and my arms go up, sending my freshly-cleaned uniform and Quidditch pads flying through the air. _Oh, if only I knew a spell to fix these kinds of_ _things,_ I think woefully, taking a second just to breathe. I bend to pick up a stray elbow pad when I hear the sound of someone else's boots making little splats.

"I never knew you had brontophobia, Chris," a girl laughs.

I look up and see Kendall Forge, a third-year Chaser on my team, walking towards me with a bright red umbrella. She grins widely and gathers my Quidditch cloak right away, which is a few feet away from me. I can sense the unspoken agreement between us that we're going to fix the situation together.

I smile back but don't respond, too focused on picking up my mess. We work together for a couple of minutes, and when we think we've got everything, we both huddle under her umbrella and head towards the pitch without a word.

When we get to the pitch and approach the arch to the locker rooms, I realize that we must be at least ten minutes late by now, and sigh quietly. I brace myself and enter. I see that the rest of the team is sat on benches, facing away from us, and they're listening to Ethan explain a new play. I clear my throat to signify our arrival.

Ethan stops talking and looks up slowly, and I hear the creak of wooden benches as everyone turns to look at me.

"Thank you for joining us, Chris," he glowers. The booming thunder outside intensifies his remark almost comically. Almost.

"And Kendall," I add, allowing her to enter as well.

"_Kendall_," he emphasises, "had got permission to be late."

I look to her, and she smiles at me almost apologetically, as if she's sorry she can't share the blame.

"I'm sorry, Ethan." I drop my eyes to a spot on the floor. "As you were saying?"

"Actually, we were just finished," he says. He claps once and says in a louder voice, "Everyone get changed."

There are multiple complaints and groans about the weather, but everyone eventually stands and begins to ready themselves for practice.

As I put on my Quidditch equipment, Ethan stands by and does his best to brief me on the new play. I mostly pay attention, but I'm partly zoned out as he rants on about Quaffles and Snitches and broomsticks and Chasers.

When we finally get outside, the rain has let up to a light shower, allowing tiny patches of sunlight to glow through the weakening points in the rainclouds. Thank Merlin. I'm like a temperamental cat—I don't like to get wet.

However, when we take off on our brooms, I quickly realise that I'll be soaked just as quickly as I was on my journey to the pitch. Oh well. I can take it.

"Everyone in position!" Ethan calls from his spot on the ground. He's knelt before the notorious brown Quidditch trunk, his usually well-styled blond hair stuck in dark, wet ropes to his forehead. He opens the trunk, first unsnapping the Golden Snitch. It flits out of sight almost immediately.

"Releasing the Bludgers!"

Ethan unsnaps both restraints at once, ducking away immediately. They launch themselves out of the trunk and into the air, one already heading straight towards Kendall.

"Where the _hell_ is that Snitch?" I hear someone shout behind me in an American accent.

Kendall catches sight of the Bludger and promptly ducks, allowing it to soar directly at me instead. With a sound _crack_ of my bat, I knock it to the other side of the pitch. I look left...right...the other one's not visible right now.

I hear a girl's high-pitched squeal, but before I can identify where it's coming from, the source herself blows past me in a blurred streak of red and gold. A Bludger races after her a half-second later, but I don't realise the situation until I'm hit by the wind in their wake.

I veer left after them, hoping I can set the Bludger off its course before anyone gets injured. When I'm about twenty feet off of its tail, I can finally make out through the rain the name on the girl's sodden cloak—d'Arca. Madeline, a second-year transfer from Salem. One of only three people who had tried out for Gryffindor Seeker. Never played Quidditch in her life, but she'd somehow made the cut.

She tries weaving random patterns through the air, possibly to disorient the Bludger, but to no avail. In fact, she just ends up practically launching herself off her broom in the process. I lean forward with my bat, ready to strike the Bludger away from her—it's a yard away—have I ever gone this fast before?—wait, what is she—

I angle directly upwards just in time to hear a raucous crash, followed by a wail and an uneven ripping noise. I can't see what's happening, but my imagination provides plenty of detail as I speed over the towering stand in front of me—the one I nearly crashed into a moment ago. I can only hope she's not hurt too badly as I try to slow down and regain stability up here.

Shortly after, there's a muted _thud_ and a whimper. Now I'm steady enough, and I begin to fly back to the ground.

When I land a minute later, she's already being carried off the pitch.


	2. The Cuts and the Bruises

**A/N: It's about damn time, yeah?**

* * *

**DOM'S PERSPECTIVE**

I lie in my bed in the Hospital Wing, utterly hell-bent on defeating the Muggle version of Miffed Hippogriffs, called Angry Birds, that Chris introduced to me yesterday. Where do Muggles get this kind of shit? Do they have _that_ much spare time on their hands whilst bumbling around their little Muggle lives? It doesn't matter.

I. Must. Triumph.

I hear someone coming, and quickly slide the shiny rectangle under my sheets. A pure-blood Slytherin like myself can't be seen with such a Muggle device. Damn Chris...

One of the giant wooden doors creaks, and four dripping wet Gryffindor Quidditch players try to maneuver through it without dropping whomever they're carrying. I hear a girl's moan of pain come from within the quartet, and my mind can't help but jump to _other_ subjects.

_A grip, Dom. Get one._

I pointedly avert my eyes from the scene as they set the injured player gently in the bed directly to my left. Great. Now there's no chance of defeating those godforsaken green pigs before I get out of here.

"WHAT IS THIS?" Madam Pomfrey scolds as she emerges from her office. "In _my_ Hospital Wing? I don't think so! _Scourgify!_" she orders, flicking her wand, and the water puddles on the floor recede into themselves until they've completely vanished.

"We're sorry, Madam," one of the players says. "We couldn't exactly dry off and change clothes before we brought her up here." He gestures to the girl lying in the bed, who's gritting her teeth and staring intensely at her legs.

"What happened?" the nurse asks, apparently letting go of her frustration and switching into healer-mode. She makes her way to the side of the girl's hospital bed and effectively blocks my view of her face. I huff and cross my arms, staring back up at the ceiling. No one needs to see Pomfrey's backside a foot away from their face.

One of them begins to speak, but the girl cuts him off. "We were at practice...and then a Bludger locked onto me, and I was trying to get rid of it..."

I'm surprised to hear she has an accent, but then I remember Matt saying he has Potions with an American girl. This is probably her.

"And then I flew into one of the stands, but landed on a bar. Then the Bludger hit me in the side, and it knocked me off and I fell." She gives a frustrated sigh. "It feels like Superman chucked a bowling ball at my leg."

"And your chest, dear?" the nurse asks.

"Like the Silver Surfer ran me over with his board."

Madam Pomfrey looks bemused, which is exactly how I feel. I know who Superman is due to being minimally exposed to the Muggle world through Chris, but this Silver Surfer is far beyond my knowledge. "Whose board did what to whom?" she asks confusedly.

There's a pause, and a slight rustling sound from the direction of the girl's bed. "Nothing, never mind. It's a Muggle thing. The point is that it hurts."

After casting a drying charm on the girl, Madam Pomfrey heads back towards her office, apparently to retrieve something to help the girl. She shoos the other players out as she goes.

"I'm Maddy, by the way," the girl says quickly before Madam Pomfrey can step out of the room.

"I know." The door shuts before Maddy can ask _how _exactly she knows.

I think I hear her mumble something, but can't decipher what it is. I look over to her side to see her with her eyes closed, arms curled around her torso. She shivers. Ah, yes, she was flying around in the October rain.

Maddy's eyes open, and she's looking at me. She quickly averts her gaze to the ceiling when she sees I'm looking back.

"I'm Dominic," I say, introducing myself. I would offer a handshake if we weren't both in hospital beds.

"Maddy. But you already heard me say that a few seconds ago so never mind..." She rushes the last part, clearing her throat. She then winces, the latter action having probably shaken something up where the Bludger hit her.

"Pleasure to meet you," I say politely, showing my most sublime smile.

It's then that Madam Pomfrey bustles back into the room with several items. "Here are your pyjamas, Madeline."

"I have to _stay the night_?" Maddy complains. "I thought you could fix normal injuries in a trice!"

Madam Pomfrey eventually pulls the curtain closed around Maddy's bed, allowing her to change into her nightclothes. While I wait for it to reopen, I pull out the phone Chris loaned me and pick back up on my muted game, unintentionally falling asleep a few minutes later.

When I wake up, the curtain is still closed, and from the light shining through the windows I can tell the sun is setting. I look to my left again, and since there is a window behind Maddy's bed, I can see her silhouette. She's in bed too. Ah well. Evidently, she doesn't want to talk to me. Whatever. I put Chris's phone under my pillow, turn over on my belly, and go back to sleep.

A while later, I hear a muffled voice. _"You. Howard."_

I squirm and reposition my head on my pillow.

_"Wake up, boy."_

"Nnnnn..." is all I can manage to respond. I was having an excellent dream, and I demand to know what happens next.

"Must I get a bucket of water?" says the voice, coming through more clearly this time.

That's all it takes to get me awake. I open up my eyes, only to be blinded by the morning light shining through the windows. My blurred vision slowly focuses to show Madam Pomfrey standing above me. "Okay, I'm up," I mumble, but the numbness of my mouth discredits the statement.

"You're all healed," she says without so much as a good-morning. "It was a powerful hex, all right, but I'd say you're good enough for classes now."

"Ugh, really?" I groan.

"Yes, really," she snaps, tossing some folded robes on the end of my bed for changing. "Come on, get up, I can't have perfectly healthy students filling up my Hospital Wing."

I push my sheets back, feeling far too exhausted to move again. But I must. So I sit up and swing my legs over the left side of my bed. Maddy's curtain has been pulled back again, and she's awake. She seems to be paying no attention to me, with her nose in a book, but then her eyes flick up to meet mine and back down again, so quickly that I'm not sure if I imagined it or not.

I sigh strenuously when my feet touch the cool stone floor.

I stand and stretch, looking back at the school's nurse, who's still there. "I think I can get dressed by myself now, thank you."

"Right," she says. "Just remember to be careful for a few days so you can recover fully. And try not to get hexed again," she adds in a maternal tone, before turning and going back into her office yet again. _I wonder what she does in there... _I wonder idly.

"Good morning," Madeline greets in a small voice.

"Oh, morning," I say back, surprised to hear her speak. "How did you sleep?"

"Well, thanks...it was kind of uncomfortable at first, but then I was able to doze off and it got better."

"Do you feel all right now?" I ask.

"Not really," she says with a sigh. "But I'm fine."

I'm unsure whether to say _'I'm sure it'll get better'_ because she doesn't feel well, or _'Good' _because she's fine. After hesitating for a second too long, I decide on a happy albeit slightly confusing medium. "Good, well, I'm sure it'll get better anyway."

Maddy doesn't overthink it. "Thanks," she says, smiling a little.

I slide the curtain around my bed shut. "So how long do you have to stay?" I ask, starting to undo the top buttons of my pyjama top.

"Umm, I'm not sure," she responds. "Probably not for long. I mean, it's probably just a sprain or something, I'm fine...though I'm not sure why she couldn't just snap her fingers and have it healed."

"Yeah, that is a little odd. Maybe magic was involved somehow," I suggest. I shrug, though she can't see it.

"Well, obviously," she replies as I slip my shirt off my shoulders. "It happened during _Quidditch practice_."

I don't respond, what with being a bit preoccupied with removing my pants. I find it quite awkward to talk to someone while I'm naked, even if they can't see me.

When I've got my freshly cleaned Slytherin uniform on and Chris's mobile tucked safely in my pocket, I reopen the curtain. When I turn to grab my wand off the bedside table, it bothers me to notice that the bed is a mess from my tossing and turning. Even though I know the house-elves will change the sheets and blankets anyway, I still feel obligated to clean up, so I straighten the blankets to near-perfection and fluff the pillows. "There," I murmur to myself when I'm finished. _Much better._

"Well, Maddy," I say with another radiant smile, "it was lovely meeting you."

"Mmm," she responds, clearly very involved in the book she's reading. I can't see the title; the cover is dark blue with a short-haired teenage girl on it. "Oh, sorry, you too." She smiles and goes back to her novel.

As soon as I step out into the corridor, I'm running before I can even comprehend where I'm going, as I'm being pulled by the arm towards the staircase by a short blur of black and blue.

* * *

**A/N: I understand if everyone is a little pissed. I haven't updated anything, I'm late when replying to PMs, and I haven't been reviewing anyone's stories. Worst of all, I've been making stupid excuses to cover for it all. And I'm truly sorry.**

**The truth is that I've been struggling with depression, self-abuse,* and suicidal thoughts recently and it's difficult to find the motivation to write anything (including PMs and reviews), even though I used to find it very enjoyable.**

**Don't panic; I'm not quitting FF or anything. I just need everyone to understand that this is a trying time in my life, and I'll need a lot more time to write between chapters. As much as I'd love to update weekly or even daily, I just can't do that.**

**Thank you for your support and understanding. I really do love all of you.**

**-Lily**

***Yes, Maddy, I remember our deal and have not betrayed it.**


	3. New Born

**MATT'S PERSPECTIVE**

"M-Matt?!" Dom stammers from beside me, struggling to keep up.

I don't answer, just keep holding his hand, keep running. My face breaks into a grin at the thought of what's to come.

We race down the closest staircase together, hang a right, and exit the Entrance Hall.

"Wait," Dom pants, slowing. "Just wait a second." He places his hands on his knees and slouches over, taking deep breaths. He's not unfit, but he doesn't often exercise his agility. I eagerly rock back and forth on my heels, waiting for him to catch his breath. We're losing time.

"Okay," he finally breathes, "I'm all right now. Where are w—"

Before he can finish his sentence, I'm off again, headed northwest towards Hagrid's hut. I glance back over my shoulder, glad to see that he's following. I grin again.

After several minutes, we arrive at Hagrid's pumpkin patch. The half-giant appears in the doorway to his hut, beckoning us to enter. "C'mon then," he laughs gruffly, "They're all out!"

We don't hesitate to cross the distance to the door. When we enter, we see that Hagrid has his moleskin coat on the floor of the cabin, a bloated white cat lying across it. Just as Hagrid implied, there's a small pile of squirming kittens positioned at her belly, each struggling to reach a tit.

"I—kittens?" Dom asks. His face is glistening with sweat.

"KITTENS!" I confirm excitedly.

"Boys, don' shout," Hagrid says quietly. "You'll gettem all wound up."

"Sorry," we chorus in a whisper.

Hagrid kneels down by the mother and gently strokes her with one of his huge hands. He looks afraid that he might shatter her with one touch. "S'all right, love," he murmurs.

Dom and I join him on the floor, examining the kittens from a safe distance. I can count four.

"What's her name?" I ask softly, so as not to disturb the new family. "Er, the mother," I add for clarification.

"Pearl," he answers. "Bredder with a Kneazle a few months back. Copper, I think 'is name was."

There's a knock at the door, and all our heads swivel to see it open. It's Chris. He smiles brightly when he sees the kittens, racing over beside us and admiring them. We can all see the utter adoration in his eyes, but he doesn't say anything. Christopher Wolstenholme is indeed a man of few words.

"Now all I have ter do is find homes for 'em," Hagrid says sadly. I sympathise, imagining how difficult it is for him to let go of his creatures.

Dom and Chris exchange a look. "Well..." Dom starts, shifting his position so he's no longer sitting on his legs. "I mean, Chris and I didn't bring any pets to the castle..."

"Don' get ahead of yerselves, now," Hagrid says. "I reck'n they'll need a few weeks with me firss."

"Of course," Dom and Chris chime at the same time. They share another glance at each other and smirk, amused by the jinx.

"Oh," the former remembers suddenly, "before I forget." He pulls a touchscreen mobile from his pocket and hands it over to Chris. The Gryffindor takes it and nods once in thanks.

"Wha' was that?" Hagrid wonders.

"A mobile phone," I answer quickly. "A Muggle device. You turn it on and write in a number and then you can call people if you have signal which is where you can like hear their voice and they can hear yours even though you're on different sides of the planet and it also takes pictures and goes on the Internet if you have WiFi," I hasten to say, my voice picking up speed as I run out of breath. I take a dramatically deep breath after finishing my explanation. "But the Internet is a whole other thing that I don't feel like explaining right now."

Hagrid looks like he didn't quite catch it all, but he nods nevertheless.

"You should get one," Chris tells Dom. "In my Muggle neighborhood, it's a bit suspicious to have owls flying in and out of my bedroom window during the summer..."

Dom hesitates. "I'll think about it," he says a bit awkwardly. None of us question his demeanour as we're all already aware of his obstacle.

"Wait," I say after a second of uncomfortable silence. "Chris...how did you get that to work at Hogwarts?"

He shrugs. "Ask Dom here, he's the one that made it happen..."

Dom grins wickedly, apparently pleased with his handiwork. "Felicity Pyle."

"...What about her?" I ask, confused. I know Felicity—she's a second-year Ravenclaw, like me. She's tall with unblemished light-brown skin and long, almost-black hair. Independent and _very_ witty, I have a feeling only Gryffindor boys will have the courage to date her in our coming years at Hogwarts.

"Well, I found out through a few connections that she and Kirsten—her older sister—had developed a charm to make certain electronics work on castle grounds, and, well..." He smirks, a tiny hint of pink spreading across his cheeks. "I've also heard that Felicity fancies me."

"Ah," I respond, suddenly understanding. The three of us laugh lightly.

"I don't know about you lot, but I'm starved," Dominic says. Chris and I nod and murmur our agreements.

"Tea?" Hagrid offers from his stove, having gotten up while we were talking.

"Er, we'd love to, but we should probably get going," Dom politely declines.

After we say our goodbyes to Hagrid and begin to make our way towards the castle, we cross paths with a small patch of wild flowers near the Entrance Hall. Dom and I pay no notice, continuing to walk and talk, when—

"Ooh, look." Chris comes to a stop and crouches next to it. "Wild phlox."

Dom gives him a dubious look as he begins to pick the flowers.

"What?" Chris mumbles with an innocent shrug. "My mum's a florist." When he has a nice bunch of the purple flowers, he plucks a few long strands of grass to mix in with his makeshift bouquet.

"Who are they for?" I ask, wiggling my eyebrows with a suggestive grin. Dom sniggers beside me.

"It's not like that," Chris responds. "A girl got hurt during Quidditch practice yesterday and she's in the hospital wing. Thought these might cheer her up," he finishes in a murmur.

"Who was she?" I ask at the same time Dom says, "Maddy, right?"

"Madeline d'Arca. Moved from America last summer." He stands again, carefully adjusting his bouquet, and continues towards the castle. We follow.

I remember Maddy clearly, her accent having made an impression on me when she spoke to the Professor Midgen on the first day. She's rather short, like me, with long brown hair and a pretty face. She seems kind, albeit shy.

It's then that we enter the castle, only to slow to a stop and glance expectantly at each other, unsure of exactly how to proceed.

"Well," Chris begins, shifting his weight to one foot, "I s'pose I'd best be off to visit Madeline then."

* * *

**A/N: Ugh, sorry for the really short chapter (and its poor quality, as it's completely unedited). I was aiming for at least 2,000 words but it just didn't work out that way...anyway.  
**

**Just some information to clear up any confusion you guys might have:**

**Hagrid is 81 years old at this point and still (in canon) working as the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. Both wizards and giants have a very prolonged lifespan (Dumbledore was 115 years old when he died of _unnatural_ causes), so Hagrid should live an extraordinarily long life. (Do you guys think I got his speaking habits right? I don't know.)**

**Matt and Chris are both in their second year in this story (I hope to continue this thing until they graduate), and Dom is one year ahead of them, in his third year. This means that Matt is 12, Chris is 12 going on 13, and Dom is 13 going on 14. Don't hurt yourself adding it all up. You'll get used to it later on. (I know Chris is the baby of the band IRL, but I'm going to keep it like this for plausibility's sake.)**

**As far as I've researched, it's possible that Chris is the youngest Beater in Hogwarts history.**

**This story is currently set in 2010. Obviously, halfway through the schoolyear it will switch to 2011. This means that Chris and Matt should graduate from Hogwarts in 2015, and Dom in 2014. UGH, SO MANY NUMBEERRRS...**

**As far as the perspective, it will rotate every chapter. It goes Chris, Dom, Matt, repeat. The whole story will be this way. I hope you all don't mind.**

**-Lily**


	4. Lush in Bloom

**CHRIS'S PERSPECTIVE**

Dom departs to go mingle in the Great Hall, Matt muttering something about having to finish a History of Magic essay. I am left on my own to go to the Hospital Wing.

Madeline is in my house, my year, and even on my Quidditch team, but I've yet to properly befriend her. We have a pleasant acquaintance: if (or rather when) she's having difficulties in Herbology, I will help; if I get in trouble for something Matt or Dom did, she will defend my innocence. I'd like to get to know her better, seeing as she hasn't yet made many friends here in the UK, but she always seems to be wrapped up in a novel or unwinding by the common room fire. Fortunately, a friend of Madeline's is our fellow Quidditch teammate, Kendall; I'm good friends with the latter, so if I ever feel like bumming around with Madeline, I can invite the both of them. Or perhaps I'm just overthinking things like always.

After entering the Hospital Wing, I approach Madeline's bed only to find that she's—of course—reading a book. I clear my throat to grab her attention, rocking back on my heels with the flowers behind my back. My palms are beginning to get sticky from the plant stems.

Madeline looks up quickly and when she sees that it's me, she smiles brightly. "Chris?"

"Hello," I respond quietly, smiling back. "I brought something for you...hopefully it'll make you feel better."

I can clearly see the burning curiosity behind her round green eyes. She cocks one dark eyebrow, her interest obviously piqued. "Really?"

I anticlimactically reveal the now-disheveled purple bouquet with a small, sheepish grin. I look up from the floor to see her face, which is emotional beyond words. She splutters for a reaction, lightly bouncing in her hospital bed, seemingly searching for the right words.

Both our heads quickly turn to one of the windows by Madeline's bed, having heard several loud yelps from outside. I approach the large arched window and chuckle when I'm met with the scene below: four Ravenclaw boys are sat on the wilting autumn grass, laughing hysterically, pointing to a group of thee Ravenclaw girls not too far away. Each of the girls is panicking, all of their hair now an absurd shade of green. One of them sprouts a neon green moustache and begins to angrily march towards the boys.

"Ravenclaws," Madeline sighs, causing me to turn my attention back to her. "Easily the best sense of humour."

I put my free hand to my heart, feigning a wounded expression. "But I thought Gryffindor was the funniest," I sniffed.

She gives me a look. "I'm in Gryffindor so I'm allowed to make fun of it."

"Fair enough," I reply with a light laugh. It's only when it's left my mouth that I realise the laugh sounded terribly girly; I gruffly clear my throat, trying to make up for the feminine slip.

Madeline's gaze, which has slid back to the flowers, does not escape my notice.

"Ah, right. Where should I put these?" I ask, glancing around the room for a vase of some kind.

"Here, you can just use this..." She gestures to a tall, empty glass on her bedside table at the exact moment I spot it. "I can't believe someone _actually_ brought me flowers..."

"Can you hold these for a moment?" I murmur, handing them to Madeline.

She closes her eyes and deeply inhales the scent of the flowers, opening her eyes and crinkling her nose slightly when the strong, spicy-sweet aroma hits her.

I wipe my palms on my robes, trying to get the stems' stickiness off, but I just end up getting lint stuck on my hands instead. I fish around in my robe pockets until I find my wand, positioning it so the tip hovers over the rim of the glass.

"_Aguamenti_," I order with a flick of my wand. A stream of water flows from the tip of my wand into the glass, creating a pleasant bubbling sound against the bottom and sides. I then take the bouquet from Madeline and place it neatly inside the makeshift vase, a bit proud of myself.

"They're beautiful, Chris," she gushes. "Thank you _so_ much."

"No problem, Madeline."

"Please call me Maddy...my mom calls me Madeline when she's mad at me," she says, grimacing.

"I get what you mean. My mum only calls me Christopher when I'm guilty of something," I reply with a nervous laugh. "Anyway, I should probably let you get back to your book, then."

"Sure. And thanks again," Maddy repeats as I turn around. I give an awkward little wave in goodbye.

So with the flower business now taken care of, I decide to go seek out Dominic in the Great Hall.

As I make the short trek to see Dom, my footsteps echoing subtly off the castle walls, I can't help but remember how uncoordinated I was during my first year here. I can't even begin to count how many times I got lost in these hallways. I still do get lost...more often than I'd like to admit. So, other than the routes I take to get to class, I tend to stick to several main locations: the Gryffindor common room, the Viaduct Courtyard, the Transfiguration Courtyard, and the Quidditch pitch. I tend to shy away from the Grand Staircase as, even though this is my second year here, it still confuses me at times.

As the Grand Staircase crosses my mind, I pass the marble staircase in the Front Hall, a personal favourite of mine for its pure Muggle simplicity.

From the entrance, I can see that Dom's sitting at the Slytherin table, chatting up a small group of girls all from different houses. He's got his tie loosened and his feet propped up on the bench, casually taking the first bite out of a crisp red apple. The girls laugh loudly at something he's said as I begin to walk towards the table.

"Hey, Chris!"

My head snaps towards where the girl's voice came from, my eyes locking onto the nearest end of the Gryffindor table to see a waving Victoria McDonald. I can't tell why she would call me over, as we don't know each other very well, despite being in the same year and house; we've had conversations in the past, but we've never really bonded on any level. Victoria's very friendly and seems to be on good terms with almost everyone in school, always with a group, a laugh always on her lips.

"Victoria," I greet when I reach her, nodding in her direction with a smile. "Afternoon."

She's sitting with a cluster Gryffindor girls who, over time, I've assumed to be her closest friends; two I recognise as being Anthea Dedworth and Freya Muldon, who are in our year.

"Do you know anything about what happened to Maddy d'Arca yesterday?" Victoria asks quietly, eagerly, looking at me with wide blue eyes. The rest of the girls lean in marginally, their stares locked firmly on me.

"Ehm...a Bludger hit her?" I answer, scratching the back of my neck._  
_

"Well, we know_ that_," she replies with an impatient sigh. "But seeing as you're on the team, you must know _some_ details..."

"I really don't," I argue. "We were at practice, Chambers released the Bludgers from the trunk, and one of them locked onto Madel—Maddy. She couldn't shake it off, so, being a Beater, I went after them both...eventually she just crashed into one of the stands, and the Bludger finally caught up to her while she was hanging by a beam. She fell down and we took her to Madam Pomfrey. That's all I know."

Victoria nods thoughtfully.

"Why are you all talking about it?" I wonder aloud. "I mean, she only got hurt playing Quidditch. Happens all the time."

She leans in conspiratorially, lowering her voice a notch. "Yes, but haven't you noticed? She hasn't healed at all since it happened...I reckon something's going on."

"I'm sure it's nothing," I dismiss with a small wave of my hand.

Victoria doesn't look convinced but shrugs nonetheless. "Whatever you say." She turns back to her group of friends, deciding to change the subject to Charms homework. I take this as my cue to leave.

I turn my back to the group of chattering girls to look for Dom, but he seems to have gone someplace else, so I am once again left on my own.

The wind outside suddenly gives a hollow wail; I look up to the Great Hall's ceiling to see that the sky has clouded over, replacing the sun with a thick blanket of grey. I clutch my robes tightly when I feel a chilly draft float through the hall, encircling my ankles and giving me gooseflesh. I silently thank Merlin that I don't have Quidditch practice today.

All of my homework for the week is done, so there's no point in studying; I don't feel like lounging around and being useless, so I've no purpose to return to my common room or dormitory. With a chuckle I remember Matt—more specifically, I remember his futile effort to complete his History of Magic essay by tomorrow. _The poor git. I should probably go help him._ After one last glance to make sure Dom has left, I exit the Great Hall, making to climb the marble staircase of the Front Hall.

On the journey to the tower, the weather quickly transitions from cold wind to harsh rain. Even though I'm only on the fifth floor and well within the castle, I can still faintly hear it pounding on the roof and walls. It gets louder as I approach the entrance to the tower. There is a window at the end of the hall, and through it I can see that the sky has gone dark with the storm; sheets of rain pummel the window, violent and then more violent. I climb the tower's spiral staircase two steps at a time.

When I arrive at the entrance to Matt's common room, the eagle knocker on the door seems to come to life, shaking its head and ruffling its bronze feathers. Matt thinks it's cool, but I still maintain that the thing is creepy as hell. Its glazed metal eyes meet mine, and it opens its beak to speak.

The voice that leaves the knocker's mouth is breathy and musical. "If you could look infinitely far forward through space and time, what would you see?" it asks.

"The back of my own head," I answer, grateful that Matt had randomly shared that information with me last month. Sure enough, I can hear the quiet gears of the door unlocking, and it swings open a second later.

"Oi, Matt?" I call as I enter the common room, the stone under my shoes turning to plush blue carpeting.

"Over here, mate," comes a voice from my right. I turn to see him look up from an unrolled parchment, dipping his raven quill in a small pot of blue ink. He's sat on a brown loveseat with his school supplies strewn chaotically across a small coffee table in front of him. His coal-black hair is sticking up in all directions, even more unruly than usual.

"Just thought you might want some help with your homework," I say, making my way over to him with my hands in my robes' pockets. There are more than a few other Ravenclaws hanging about in here, but they're mostly unsurprised to see me, as I've made a habit of barging into their common room to find Matt in the time I've been at Hogwarts. "I finished my essay on the Medieval Assembly of European Wizards last week, so perhaps I could be of some assistance here." I gesture to the mess of Matt's notes lying before me.

He leans over and grabs the sleeve of my robes, roughly tugging me down to sit next to him. "Thank you," he says fervently. "I can't even remember the name of the bloody thing and now I have to write a three-foot essay on it by tomorrow and I've only got ten inches done!"

"Not to worry," I assure him, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'm here."

* * *

**A/N: ****Does this chapter sound a bit awkward to you all? I wrote it with a much different structure in mind this time. I'm trying new things. So let me know if it sounds a bit...forced.**

******Forgive me for the delay! I know I said it would take a while, but I didn't know it was going to take quite this long. I had the chapter ALMOST finished, and then I had some medical issues and had to stay in the hospital for a few weeks. But I'm back now, so we're all good.  
**

**-Lily**

**PS: I know t****he story is starting out slow, but I promise there's a plot subtly unfolding here! It's your job as a reader to try and figure out what it is! (Hint hint, review...)**


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